


The Ruins

by DarkDayDream



Category: Monster Girl Encyclopedia
Genre: Anal Play, Archaeology, Bad Ending, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Breastfeeding, F/M, Flower sex, Hypnotism, Large Breasts, Monster Girl, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nectar, Porn With Plot, Prostate Massage, Rough Oral Sex, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Vines, alraune, human/monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 07:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18191345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDayDream/pseuds/DarkDayDream
Summary: A young archeologist explores the ruins of a lost civilization, a long since abandoned kingdom that is well known for its dangers and disappearances. An ancient and rare being lurking in its depths, a creature in search of prey to sustain its growing hunger.(Or: Our unsuspecting traveler stumbles across an ancient Alraune variant who leaves him drained and compliant)





	The Ruins

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything from the Monster Girl Universe.  
> And I have a veeery basic understanding of how to Monster girl universe works  
> 

For as long as Marcus could remember, his life had always been one of leisure. Born in the Kingdom of Floret with a silver spoon in his mouth, and a maid worriedly trailing after him.

The second born; and only son, of Jacob Bittercress.

A well respected man of middle nobility that had gained the Kings trust and friendship during his youth, a bond that had continued even after his unfortunate death shortly into Marcus’s sixteenth year of living. Leaving the young teen as the head of his own household, with underlings to command and a bustling trading company to handle.

His sister; ten years his senior, helping as much as she possibly could with her limited knowledge of their family trade. A twenty-six year old woman that had a good head on her shoulders, but no future prospects to speak of.

Their father having put little effort in securing his daughter a husband, most likely in fear of having no one to take care of him in his old age. Which he unfortunately never made it to. Thankfully though, it was through the kindness of the King that the overwhelmed Bittercress family found its second chance.

In the form of Jasper Rose, the King’s seventh son.

A kind and gentle man that had little chance of becoming king, his life unsure and without purpose. Thirty-two, and more than happy to become Marcus’s brother-in-law, marrying his sister and thrusting himself into the Bittercress family business with gusto. Marcus more than happy to step down from his temporary position as family head, and instead return to the safety of his books and school work.

Marcus’s teens and early twenties filled with a constant stream of teachers and tutors hired by Jasper, money of little issue to the growing Bittercress family. Marcus’s sister popping out children like they were going out of style, giving birth to her ninth child; and third daughter, by the time Marcus had finished his schooling at the age of twenty-seven.

Having earned the right to call himself an Archeologist, and a scholar.

The walls of the family home a treasure trove of ancient relics and interesting finds he had found during his explorations, his little nieces and nephews looking up at him in awe and wonder with each new piece he carted home.

Stone tablets, hand crafted weapons, gold flecked jewelry.... and the occasional skull. Anything and everything he could get his hands upon, going as far as to travel days away in his searching.

Traveling farther and farther away, each new find furthering his obsession and bringing fame to the Bittercress family. A surname that would have died with the childless Marcus, if not for Jasper’s outright willingness to separate himself from his original last name.

Each new niece and nephew proudly born a Bittercress, spoiled not only by their parents and Marcus, but by the King himself. One or more of them an often sight to see milling about the King’s feet, quietly playing as the adults spoke of subjects their little minds could hardly comprehend.

Except if it was Marcus who had been given an audience with the King, one of the few people privileged to a solo meeting with the kingdoms monarch. The children shooed off in favor of a moment of silence, banished to the kitchen for a midday snack.

Allowing the King to worry without the gaze of curious eyes, the topic of today's conversation one that the pair had discussed on more than one occasion.

Always with the same outcome.

“-and it is for good reason that The Ruins have been off limits since before you were born, Marcus. Is your need for acclaim really worth more than your life?”

“But I would not be risking my life, I assure you. Just to the outskirts of the village, no further.”

For it was just a short distance from the kingdom; half-a-day on foot, that The Ruins of The Lost lay abandoned and avoided. A small neighboring Kingdom that predating the Kingdom of Floret by several hundred years, a thriving civilization once known for its beauty and wealth. The kingdom scarcely mentioned in the library archives, the old texts offering up bits and pieces that hardly held worth.

Snippets about the neighboring kingdoms once great power and wealth, a past that had tempted many explorers, attracting men and women from across the kingdoms with the promise of easy fame and fortune.

A promise made of lies.

Well-known adventurers and explorers vanishing without a single trace, foolishly wandering into the unknown despite the warnings. The Ruins claiming many a souls, before the risk was simply too high to ignore, the neighboring kingdoms willingly turning a blind eye to the location. Teaching their children to fear that cursed place, its exploration forbidden.

The Ruins of The lost, the final resting place of fathers, mothers, sons, daughters… even armies, unfortunate enough to wander through its marble arches.

“Can you truly tell me, you would not step farther into that place? Can you truly, Marcus?”

“I truly can, my King. I will go no farther, on my father's grave I will not stray.” Marcus felt only a sliver of guilt at the lie that had passed his lips, the mention of his old friend a weakness of the kings. Fondly thinking back on the dead, even after so many years.

A worried pinch to his brow as the King eventually folded to Marcus’s long standing plea.

Ending the conversation with approval, the first time in the many times they had discussed this exact same request. The King regretting his decision before Marcus could even leave the next day, watching from the safety of his balcony as the young archeologist departed alone on horseback.

A gathering of Marcus’s little nieces and nephews waving their goodbyes, their parents looking on with similar expressions of doubt and worry, having already voiced their disapproval.

Words Marcus hardly even registered as he packed his bags with clothes and tools, setting out in the early morning before the heat of the day could sway his resolve, sticking to the shade of the forest’s edge as the hour grew later, turning the air thick and humid.

Sweat trickling down Marcus’s spine and soaking into his shirt, a hand rising to mop at his sweaty neck. The clop of his horses hooves the only sound to keep him company on his short journey, arriving at the break in the forest wall just as the sun was starting to inch its way downwards.

His leisurely pace the reason for his late arrival.

Completing a trip that should have taken half a day on foot, in just under an entire day on horseback. The forest dark around him when he entered into its thickness through a break in the trees, the densely packed tree tops knitting together overhead like a blacked-out veil, refusing to allow even a drop of daylight to shine through the gnarled limbs.

The break opening up into a skinny road of dirt and overgrowth.

Forcing Marcus to dismount his horse.

Leading the uncertain animal by its harness, the stallions once sure-footing now quivery with unease. Eyes staring and darting, looking into the darkness and shivering fiercely. The forest silent around them, apart from the clop-clop-clop of hooves.

Not a single animal in sight, the trees free of movement.

In fact the deeper they went, the more confused Marcus became. The lush, wild-running plant life growing dark and brittle, trees scraggly with bare limbs and exposed roots. Flowers, grass, ivy… even weeds, they were all gone.

The air musty with the smell of decaying leaves that rotted on the forest floor.

Dark and black, but without a single seedling attempting to rise up from the fertile earth. The brittle bark of the dying trees flaking off beneath the lightest touch of his hands.

Marcus walking deeper into the thinning forest, lead by the light of his torch alone. A hand on the neck of his horse, soothing the spooked beast who chomped at its bit and pulled at its lead, glancing back at the dark stretch of forest behind them.

The sun long since buried beneath the horizon, by the time the marble arches of The Ruins came into view. The only accessible entrance to the remnants of the fabled kingdom, its border walls still strong despite the generations it had stood empty and neglected.

Stone walls of at least ten feet high, with ornamental accents etched into it. Simple; though beautiful, works of art that had been worn away by the elements and plant life over the years since its careful carving, a mere shadow of its once glorious appearance.

Torch in hand as Marcus admired the finely detailed craftsmanship still visible to that day, the soft preen of petals and the sharp prick of thorns. Flowers of all kinds meticulously carved into the stone, a welcome sight after the long day of traveling he had endured.

Marcus tying his horse to one of the tethering rings of the Ruins entrance, before setting up camp against the borderwall. Collecting sticks and logs for a small fire to cook his dinner and chase the seeping chill of night away, a skinned hare; bought from the butcher before he had departed that morning, skewered and roasting atop the fire as he went about setting up his tent.

A tiny thing that could comfortable fit a single person without issue, made of tanned sheep and goat leather. A perfect shelter for surviving cold summer nights, the thick leather keeping the cold out and the heat in, making for a toasty sleep that night.

Marcus curled up on his straw-stuffed bedroll, the scent of freshly washed linens coaxing him to sleep. Breathing in the smell of sunlight and soap that had soaked into the bedding he had packed, stomach pleasantly full and expectations high.

Excitedly awaiting the arrival of morning, so he might explore The Ruins in the daylight. The forest silent around him as he slept, not a single living animal to disturbs his heavy slumber.

Marcus dead to the world that mutely continued on around him.

\-----

When Marcus climbed from his tent late the next morning, it was with great annoyance he discovered the lack of his horse. The chestnut stallion missing from the ring he had been tethered to, the brittle ringlet left cracked on the floor.

Pulled free with ease, the lack of struggle taken into account.

The ground undisturbed, apart from scattered hoof prints and the compressed dirt from where the stallion had slept, a grimace on Marcus lips as he set out after a quick breakfast of leftover hare meat.

Not exploring The Ruins as he had wished, but following the tracks of his idiot horse into the woods. Calling out for the lean creature; given the unfortunate name of buttercup, for several long hours.

Trekking through the woods on foot, tripping over more than a couple roots and rocks, his clothes caked with mud when he at last made it back to the makeshift campsite. Tired, sore, and without his horse.

Not the most positive of starts, but not the worse either. Marcus packing up the essentials he would need for the day, his overstuffed pack weighing him down as he departed from camp for a second time that day. Standing at the large marble arches of The Ruins, black stone pillars that soared high above his head, overshadowing the border walls by five feet at least.

Beautiful black marble that shone in the afternoon sun, it's dark coloring streaked sporadically with lines of white and grey, soft to the touch. Each pillar expertly chiseled by long-dead masters, their presence alone enough to bring a smile to Marcus’s lips as he stepped through the arches, and into The Ruins.

Each step heavy beneath the weight of his pack, head turning and eyes wide.

Taking in the beauty with aghast awe, voice silent in his throat. Coaxed forward at the quiet chirp of birds, both plant life and wildlife abundant here. A noticeable contract, when compared to the stillness of the forest surrounding The Ruins.

The air thick with the taste of pollen and moss, the ground soft and spongy beneath his trudging feet, a blanket of rich peat covering the ground. Years upon years of rotting leaves offering an abundant food source to the plant life that had overtaken the abandoned remnants of the once great civilization.

Marcus's day spent collecting the cuttings of plants he had never seen before, corking the cuttings up in small bottles and pressing flowers into the pages of books. Wisely choosing not to wander too far into The Ruins on the first day, always staying within sight of the marble arches.

Taking his time, while also watching his back.

The Ruins deserted, as the King had foretold. Beautiful and exciting to see, but long had it been since the last human had stepped foot in the forbidden ruins. Only a hint of the lands previous inhabitants remaining, decrepit houses without roofs or doors.

Walls made of stacked stone and mortar, the old stonework showing its wear and tear. Some walls collapsed, while others merely teetered precariously. Waiting for a good breeze to blow them over, crumbling before Marcus’s eyes, promising to award his curiosity with a swift cavein, if he dared to try and explore their decaying bodies.

Thankfully, not all of the houses were in such an advantage stage of despair.

The buildings becoming sturdier, the further he would walk. The soft peat of the ground hardened and snaring, coated in a thick layer of roots and vines, some small while others too large for his hands to fit around.

Vines that had claimed ownership of The Ruins, coiled around pillars and netted over houses. Buildings still without roofs and doors, but walls that stood strong and without a single give.

Even withstanding a good hard shove from Marcus’s shoulder, a satisfied nod to his head as he tentatively stepped into one of the buildings. Marveling at its size from the inside, every surface coated in a layer of green scum that glistened with moisture.

A new sample bottle cracked open, and the blade of his knife scraped down the wall.

Absently collecting a sample of the green scum, Marcus’s eyebrows knitting together at the glint of gold that unexpectedly shone back at him from the sliver of wall he had shaved his knife down, filling the bottle with the scum before tucking it away into his pack.

Knife re-sheathed at his waist and hands sliding firmly along the slick green film, wet and sticky between his fingers as he slowly cleaned the wall of its slimy coating. The setting sun spattering the sky in shades of orange and red, a beautiful canvas overhead as Marcus stepped back from the wall.

His arms and hands covered in a layer of green, the once coated wall now a mosaic of precious stones and ores, all artfully laid into a bed of gold.

Ruby, garnet, rose quartz. Jewels and stones, all pink and pressed into the shape of a single blossom, full and glittering before Marcus's eyes. Not a single stone missing from the gold inlay, a sizable fortune forgotten for so very long, hidden beneath a layer of inch thick gunk.

Beautiful, and by far the most exquisite thing Marcus had ever discovered. A finding that would become the norm, during his searching of The Ruins. Marcus going from one decrepit house to the next during the first three days of exploring.

Moving steadily deeper into The Ruins as he went, the trek back to his campsite taking longer each night. The area around his campsite becoming a trove of carefully transported discoveries, anything and everything he could cart back on his own without the help of a horse.

Tablets, small statues, broken ceramics, the bodiless head of a gold encrusted horse.

His hands raw and feet throbbing by the time Marcus would settle onto his bedroll and curl up in the darkening sheets of his bed, the fine linens stained with the dirt that coated his skin. Unwilling to use his precious drinking water to washing himself off with.

Though truthfully, Marcus couldn't care less. Falling asleep each night with a smile on his lips and a full-body throb of a long, successful day of digging, exploring, and carting. Marcus rising early in the morning to return to where his searching had stopped the night before. 

Eventually dragging his camp equipment along with him on the fourth day, his tent setup in between two roofless houses, a canopy of vines hanging overhead.

Shading his newly set campsite from the midday sun, and offering some relief from the nightly wind that rattled his tent and howled as it whipped past. Awakening Marcus with its demanding shriek more than once.

But that night; the first night he had slept in The Ruins, it was not the wind that had woken Marcus from his slumber. Blinking blearily into the darkness of his tent, unsure what had pull him from sleep so suddenly, the world quiet around him. Just the quiet hum of the wind as it brushed against the vines overhead, low and calming.

A voice that pulled at his chest and stroked like fingers through his hair, coaxing Marcus back to sleep with a hum so soothing, it remember him of his mother.

Back when she had still been alive.

The way her arms would wrap protectively around him as he slept, strong and caring. Chasing the shadows away before they could even think of disturbing his sleep. Marcus smiling to himself at the fond memories, his eyes growing heavy and the world blurring before him.

Pulling his blankets up around his neck, and turning over upon his side.

The humm trailing off, as Marcus’s soft snoring filled the air.

\-----

Feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time, Marcus started the day with a spring to his step, deciding to spend the morning rechecking the houses he had already explored. Just incase he had miss anything, a task that took no more than a couple hours.

Proving that it was better to be safe than sorry, his searching awarded not with riches, but with information.

What was once thought to be a pile of rubble, turning out to be a pile of broken clay tablets. Old, but freshly cracked. Falling from a wooden shelf that had eventually buckled under the weight of the tablets, the break recent enough that it made assembling the pieces a snap.

Allowing Marcus a glimpse into the language of the lost civilization.

One not of words, but of pictures. Scribblings that made little sense to Marcus, the tablets decorated with things and creatures he had never seen before, as well as plants and trees. A hint of color still clinging on the fragile clay, colors Marcus had only seen in nature before.

Hues that flaked beneath his fingertips, ones he had never known possible to emulate.

The dark red of a rose, the bright yellow of a daffodil, the soft blue of a robins egg. The coloring alone made the tablets an expensive find, Marcus’s hand steady as he jotted the strange markings down in his notebook, dropping the tables off at his campsite before continuing with his search.

Finding buildings that were not residential, too small or too big to be used as housing. A blacksmith's shop here, a food storage building there, he even found the remains of a bakery.

A small hut stocked full of clay pots. Most of which were broken, though some surprisingly enough were intact, containing long since expired grains. A useless find, but interesting for Marcus nonetheless.

Bottling up a small sampling of the stale grains, while markings off the building in his notebook. Simply labeling it as ‘Bakery’, one of the few buildings that still had a roof intact, its high clay content sucking up the moisture in the air, keeping the wooden roof from rotting and the walls free of scum.

Though perhaps one of the more surprising finds of that day, was The Cliff. A sheer fifty-foot drop that literally came out of nowhere, houses butted up against its edge tightly.

The view only visible from inside of the stone houses.

Each little dwelling once possessing a stone balcony that hung over the edge, though most had fallen away by now. Awarding distracted adventures with a quick trip to the bottom of the cliff, a route many seem to have taken in the past.

If the scattering of skeletal remains below were anything to go by.

The first human remains Marcus had discovered so far. Maybe a dozen or so bodies, a small number when compared to the list of known adventures who had vanished from The Ruins. And while he did want to feel sorry for the poor men and women who has accidentally lost their lives, all he could do was stand there and stare from off the balcony.

Mouth open and pupils blown, taking in a sight few people currently alive had ever seen, the balcony overlooking a valley of marble and greenery.

The valley completely surrounded by the sheer drop of the cliff on all sides, a single set of stairs carved into the cliff-side that went down to the valley floor below. At the very center of which stood a marble temple like none Marcus had ever seen.

Not as complex or masterful as the King of Floret’s Castle, but am impressive monument even so. The valley floor around it an overgrown forest of trees and lush plant life, breeds of flowers he had only seen glances of, in the ancient textbooks stocking the castle library. The trees; most likely having been manageable during the early years of the Temple, now tall and fat, branches hanging with flower bearing vines and ivy, the scent of pollen tickling at his nose.

Sweet, and almost delectable to breath in. A taste that lingered on his tongue with each breath, calling to him. Beckoning him to The Ruins below, the temple in a similar state of disarray and decay as the other builds were in, but still holding strong in spite of its age. Marble of pure white without a single black streak of imperfection to speak of, chiseled into massive pillars, arches, and walls.

And in the very center of the temple, was a dome of black marble that had somehow retained its shape, despite The Ruins around it. Standing tall on its pillars of white marble, glints of color glittering on the dome’s surface.

“Fuck…” Marcus blurted aloud, frozen on the balcony for what seemed like ages. Looking down upon the valley with a grin wide enough to make his cheeks hurt, the day barely begun, and already he couldn't wait until tomorrow. Another day of exploring to look forward to.

But that was tomorrow, and this was today.

And today, Marcus was going to explore that Temple, making a quick stop at camp to drop his current findings off, before heading out again. The stairway down to the valley floor surprisingly stable, hardly even a crack to speak of on the over one hundred and twenty-six stairs. Marcus taking the last handful of stairs two at a time, giddy with excitement as he at last reached the Valley below.

The trees so much taller than he had expected, upon seeing them face to face.

Momentarily pausing at the bottom of the stairs to look up at the cliff face above.

Its silhouette obstructed with the few balconies that still managed to loomed over its edge, Marcus’s gaze hesitant upon the balcony he had stood on a short time ago while looking over the valley, taking note of the crumbling support beams that scarcely held it upright. A frown on his lips as he turned to the old growth forest, choosing to think of more positive topics.

“Alder, Maple, Red Oak, Pine- no wait, Spruce.” Marcus quietly sang to himself, naming the many different species of trees aloud as he walked past them, voice the only sound to be heard in the forest. Marcus willingly ignoring the lack of wildlife, his eyes upon the flecks of white marble that peeking out from between the monstrous trees in front of him.

Marcus leaning against the trunk of an old Maple, its bark rough against the palms of his hand.

Head tilted and teeth flashed in a toothy smile, his gaze met with the kind eyes of a podium perched statue. A woman nestled in the folds of a giant flower, her head playfully leaned to one side, a hint of a smile toying at the corner of her lips.

The figure chiseled from a single block of pearly white marble and lavishly sprawled in a flower of rose quartz. Most of the woman's body artfully hidden in the flowers embrace, the enlarged petals draped across her marble flesh like silk, hiding her from view, while also accentuating the curve of her hips and the swell of her chest.

So many words coming to mind that just weren't worthy of the time and effort the artist had put into the woman, Marcus’s mind a blank slate as he stared and gawked. The statue; as complete as the day it had been made, the first sight to greet travelers when they stepped out of the thick sheet of forest.

The woman placed delicately in the middle of a garden made entirely of cracked marble, beautiful jagged pieces that arched up from the ground like reaching tendrils, marble of all colors.

Black, green, red, white, cream.

The maiden of the rock garden bisecting the path that lead out of the forest and to the temple, Marcus slow to walk past. Instead pausing to stand before her in awe, almost tempted to step into the rock garden so he might caress the pale pink quartz, hands clenching and eyes darting.

Looking past her, and towards the temple.

Admiring it from up close, now that he was no longer the distance of the balcony away. The black marble dome; which he had noticed the glisten of from the start, inlaid with a healthy scattering of black gems. Making it glitter like the night sky, even in the early evening sun.

Marcus in awe, as he had found himself being quite often in the last couple days.

Because from the very moment he had stepped foot in The Ruins, everything had been so… overwhelmingly beautiful, and untouched by all but time and nature. Having yet to come across a single set of footprints that weren't his own, the fourth day without seeing another person in sight.

Apart from the marble woman, whom Marcus was almost tempted to count.

“Just you wait, I shall take you home with me.” Marcus swore to the statue, giving her one last fond look before turning towards the Temple and walking away, the pathway a mixture of dirt and root, thick brown tendrils that coiled along the ground like webbing and snagged at his feet.

So intent on tripping him up, at times he thought the roots were moving on their own. A frustrated sigh on his lips as he at last made it to the stairs of the temple, the monumental marble structure looming high above him.

A warm gust of air washing over his face as it escaped from the temples gaping opening, the air thick with a scent he could not identify. The same one that had tempted him down from the cliffs edge, sweetening the air like honey. Making his mouth water and his head swim, eyes set forward and footing sure.

Most likely the first human to set foot in the temple in over a generation, its insides just as beautiful as its outsides. The floors completely hidden beneath a patchwork of vines, some healthy and green while others brown and wilted. The healthy vines coiling up pillars and webbing between the wall and ceiling.

Blanketing the ceiling; and the inside of the dome, with a weaved canopy of vines.

Completely covering every inch of the ceiling, apart from the very center. The canopy parting around the Oculus of the dome, letting the light of the outside world shine in, in a single angular beam.

Marcus’s breath catching in his throat.

The light; dark from the latening hour, resting on a lone flower that had sprouted from the vines copiously coiled at its base. An abnormally massive flower at that, it’s petals closed despite the ray of light that shone upon it.

Marcus making his way through the unsteady ground until he stood before the beautiful plant, the source of the scent that had called to him. Head tilted back and eyes shut, breathing deep its savory aroma. The smell coating his lungs and seeping into his clothes.

A tightness to his pants earning an eye roll from the young archeologist, scoffing at the state he found himself in without reason. His cock throbbing in his pants, as he gazed upon a fucking flower of all things.

“Have you brought me an offering, human?”

Marcus nearly jumped from out his skin at the low, tempting voice that broke the temples silence. Head turning every which way, glancing at every dark corner with mistrust and suspicion, waiting for the owner of the voice to leap out at him.

But with great disbelief, before his very eyes the massive pink blossom began to open. Petals elegantly preening open one at a time, until the same eyes that he had stared into earlier looked back at him.

Calm pools of liquid gold that seemed to stare right through him, her face set in a quiet, teasing smile that brought a flutter to his chest and a gulp to his throat. Her hand rising to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a veil of silky pink locks that pooled over her shoulders, and tickled at the swell of her breasts.

Her skin a soft hue of green, supple and somewhat shiny.

The woman; though Marcus could be mistaken in labeling her that, was sparsely clothed in strips of laced ivy. Greenery that clutched at the dip between her thighs and encased her massive breasts, barely containing the straining of her nipples. The hardened peaks visible even from Marcus’s short distance away, demanding his attention.

“Did you hear me, Human? Is that offering for me?” She said again, her body swaying slowly from side to side. A rhythmic and fluid motion that Marcus couldn't bear to take his eyes away from, even if he wanted to. Her breasts swaying, swollen and otherworldly.

“What… what are you?” Marcus eventually managed to ask aloud, voice with a low panty growl to it. A bead of sweat trickling its way down his forehead.

“I was… I am, the protector of this beautiful land you have ventured into. The once mighty Kingdom of Allure, guarded by yours truly since the days of its youth. Many lifetimes ago, when this temple was full of life and pleasure.”

“Like… like a God?”

“I am a Deity of the forest you ventured through to find me, once worshiped and beloved by an entire civilization. Though truthfully, you are the first human I have seen in many years. It fills me with joy, to see such a young and healthy human standing before me again. So very full of life,” The woman's eyes dipped down, tracing the bulge of his cock straining against the ties of his pants, her tongue darting out to drag along her bottom lip.

“What- what happened to the people who once populated your land? Why has it been abandoned? And, and… do you know why The Ruins have claimed the lives of so many adventurers? Did you see them?” Without any tact, Marcus simply blurted out the first round of questions that managed to form in his rattled brain.

“Like all good things, even civilizations must come to an end. War, feminine, disease. It is not an uncommon thing, dear human. If you want anymore answers though, I would suggest offering me a trade. My knowledge, for your… offering?”

Even with his eyes glued to the woman's chest, Marcus had the decency to look embarrassed as she casually motioned to the straining of his pants, his cock twitching at her attention.

“Offering?” He squeaked, voice washed with confusion.

“Must I be blunt, dear human?” The woman laughed, leaning forward to rest her hands on the petals of her flower, her massive breasts swaying before Marcus’s unbelieving eyes, the tight ivy that encased them loosening.

A flash of pink peeking out from under the living fabric, the barest hint of a nipple.

“Let me take care of that tasty cock of yours, and I will answer your questions. A fair trade, do you not agree?” Slowly the woman extended a hand to Marcus, her arms covered in silken white gloves. The tips of her fingers subtly pointed, scarcely there clawtip. “Give me your offering, and I will make you feel things you knew not possible.”

Before today, Marcus never considered himself to be a weak man. His interests more important than the occasional stirring of his loins, his sexual partners few and far between. A number that easily fit onto one hand, with fingers to spare.

The joy of Archeology offering far more pleasure that any woman could offer him.

“I- I..” Marcus wanted to say no, to politely turn her down and continue on with his discoveries. But despite what he wanted, he still found himself reaching out to grasp at her extended hand, so very small in his own. Pulling him gently, leading him into the soft petals of her flower.

Fingers lacing, her swollen breasts firmly pressed to his broad chest.

Marcus might not have been the most of attractive men; but one that he did have going for him was his height. Standing a boastful 6’1, the tallest male in his family. The temple deity truly tiny in comparison, a full head and a half shorter than him.

“That's a good boy,” She purred, gazing up at him fondly. A smile on her lips as she caressed the swell of his cock through his pants, letting her fingers part around the stiffening meat. “My good boy..” She whispered with pride.

“W-what happened to- to your people?”

“Lack of motivation, I am afraid to say.” Deftly the woman loosened the ties of Marcus’s pants, her hand slipping into the lax waistband, fingers following the dark strip of fluff that ran down his abdomen and into the curls of his pubic hair. “I was too kind, and too giving. I made them spoiled.”

Long fingers wrapped around the swell of Marcus’s cock, stroking him. Pulling his half hardened length from the confinements of his pants, fingers slowly teasing him erect. Talented hands that knew their way around a human, and how to make them squirm and beg.

And cum.

“I will do better, next time.” The woman assured herself aloud, unlacing their fingers to instead comb them through Marcus’s short brown hair, her lips pouting. Golden eyes staring up from beneath long black lashes, “Bend down, sweetie. Let me taste your lips.”

Sweet.

That was the first word that ran through Marcus’s mind at the touch of the woman’s lips to his own. Full and soft, the tip of her tongue sliding down the part of his lips. Goosebumps rising up along his forearms and neck, lips parting and tongue darting.

Brushing against the woman’s sinfully delicious tongue.

A moan settling in the back of his throat at the taste of her. Sweeter than any expensive candy he had been playfully fed by his little nieces, a thick and syrupy taste that had him twitching against her. His hands upon her full, shapely hips.

Fingers sinking into the plush flesh, gripping greedy handfuls of her.

The calm coo of her voice echoing inside of his jumbled mine.

**_Such a good boy~_ **

From out of the flower three thin vines wiggled their way into view, two of them snaking their way up his ankles and around his thighs, hooking into the waist of his pants. Helping to free Marcus from the bothersome things, as well as his boots. Stripping him bare from the waste down, the two vines making themselves at home around him.

Curling up his legs and circling around his body, wiggling their way beneath his shirt.

Popping out at the collar of his shirt and wrapping loosely around his neck, the tips stroking at the side of his jaw. Marcus blind to the world, apart from the taste of the woman’s lips.

His cock twitching and throbbing, pulsing in her talented fingers. Dribbling precum all over her gloved hands. Marcus’s hips jerking to her stroking, rutting against her hand like some primitive animal. A giggle on the woman's lips as she slipped her tongue from out of his mouth, a trickle of gooey nectar oozing its way down the side of his mouth.

“What a messy boy,” She whispered, mopping up the spilled nectar with her finger before pressing it against the part of Marcus’s lips. His mouth instantly wrapping around the nectar slickened digit, tongue greedily lapping at the addictive syrupy mess.

“M-more. More, please?” Marcus husked, staring down at her through blown pupils.

“Who am I to say no to such a polite plea.” The woman praised, the thin ivy coverings of her breasts unthreading itself. Letting her breasts bounce free from their imprisonment, nipples fat and puffy, leaking with Nectar.

“Come, drink to your heart's content.” At first, Marcus simply latched onto her nipple. His body awkwardly bend and cock sliding from her fingers stroking embrace, a frown on her lips.

**_This will not do._ **

The woman's voice whispered in the back of Marcus’s head, her hands firmly and demanding. Coaxing him onto his back, the petals of the flower soft but capable around him, supporting the weight of his body with ease. One hand stroking at the back of his head, while the other returning to stroking at his cock.

Marcus lost in the flow of nectar that oozed down his throat, suckling upon her nipple like a child. Greedily drinking down the thick amber liquid, the rich sap warming him from the inside and making his head swim.

Her voice; kind and soothing, whispering praises against the shell of his ear. Marcus watching her through glazed eyes as she brought her glove covered hand to her face, the cloth wet with his precum. Her eyes closing as she breathed deeply the musky smell of his pre.

A moan parting her lips as her tongue; wet with nectar, licked up the mess he had made.

A flush to her cheeks, her eyeing staring down at him as she slowly and sensually cleaned her hand of his precum. Moaning at the rich taste of man, a delicacy she had not sampled in an embarrassing amount of years. Her vines tightened securely around the suckling man, her hand returning to its job at lavishing his cock with attention.

“We’re going to have so much fun from now on,” She hummed, stroking at his hair softly.

Of the three vines that had risen from the petals of her flower, unlike the two that had wrapped themselves around Marcus’s body, one was different in appearance. Thicker, with a green bud at its tip.

The bud lazily opening to allow a skinny, pale pink flower to emerge. Its four petals long and flowing, preening open to display the dark pink of its insides. A glisten of wetness seeping from the flowers center, tiny threadlike tendrils wiggling excitedly from out of the flowers innards.

“Good boy, good boy.” She teased into his ear, her stroking hand sliding down to grip at the base of his cock. Toying with his heavy balls as the flower tipped vine hovered over the dribbling head of his cock.

The threadlike tendrils grazing testingly over the weeping tip before they wrapped around him.

Bodily pulling his length into the tight, churning insides of the flower. The petals wrapping around him in a smothering fit, sucking firmly at every inch of Marcus’s cock it could cram into itself. A grunt of surprise escaping from the suckling man, his hands shooting down to grip at the flower.

Marcus’s head tipped back with a moan, the woman's nipple slipping wetly from between his lips. His hips jerking as he thrusted against the suctioned flower, his breath caught in his throat and eyes clenched shut.

Cumming without a single thought in his head, mind blank and hips spasming against the milking flower. The woman’s hands gently kneading his clenching balls, coaxing out every last drop of cum he could give.

Her hand stroking at his cheek, gently turning his head back towards her. Brushing her nipple to his parted lips, the taste of nectar teasing at his taste buds and bringing a twitch to his cock. Spent, but still unbelievable hard.

The flower unraveling around him, his cum dripping from it's dark pink center, and down its pale pink petals.

The petals quickly closing before his essence could spill, the flower tipped vine slithering its way up Marcus’s body until the woman's hands could gently cradle around it, her head tipped back and lips parting.

Marcus’s cum; thick and pungent, drooling from the flower, and onto the woman’s awaiting tongue. The temples deity drinking slowly the thickness she had milked from his offering, openly moaning at the taste as it ran down the back of her throat.

Feverishly consuming his spilled essence, the flower opening slowly as its harvest was drained. Her fingers wrapped around the vine and stroking at its soft petals, her tongue mopping up the flowers gooey center.

An erotic sight so see, even for the blurry minded Marcus.

A pout on her lips when the flower eventually became clean, thoroughly tongue bathed. Her eyes blinking back towards Marcus, still suckling blankly away at her nipple. A messy eater, by the looks of it.

The woman's green skin sticky with escaped nectar, a laugh parting her lips as she returned the flower tipped vine back into the folds of her massive pink blossom.

A hand stroking down the side of Marcus’s face, and then grabbing a handful of his hair. Jerking his head back, her nipple slipping from between his lips with a wet pop.

“Human, what was your name?”

“Uuhhh…. M-marcus. Marcus B-b-bittercress from the Kingdom of Floret.” He answered with audible confusion.

“Well Marcus of Floret, stand for me. I wish to worship your kind offering with my mouth.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, lips stretched into a smile that was positively predatory.

A smile that only lasted a moment, before softening upon her lips. The vines around his body loosening, and allowing the dizzy man to stand within the woman’s flower, the silky petals caressing at his legs.

Marcus’s hands limp at his sides, staring down at the woman kneeling at his feet. Her hands on his muscle thighs and eyes focused on the throbbing length of meat that twitched in front of her nose.

Nuzzling adoringly against it, pressing her fingertips against the firmness of his thighs as she wrapped her lips around the swollen tip of his cock. Tongue lavishing the rigid meat, drawing the flat of her tongue from tip to base, and then back up again.

Mouth parting wide and throat clenching, the woman swallowing Marcus’s cock with ease. A single hand raised to pin her disobedient hair behind one ear, cheeks hollowing as she sucked away at his meaty cock.

Hands gripping at the sides of her head.

Marcus’s head tilted back and mouth open with pleasure, his hips rocking against her face. Savoring the lewd squelch of wetness her throat would make as his length slipped down it. The woman moaning quietly as she was facefucked, staring up at Marcus.

Their eyes locked, Marcus unwilling and unable to look away from the woman’s gaze of liquid gold. Her voice in his head, low and praising. Words that made Marcus smile dozily and renew his efforts to stretch out her throat.

Hips roughly jerking forward, cramming his swollen cock down her needy throat. Her nectar spilled down her chin and dribbling across her massive breasts, his cock bathed in a syrupy mess. His balls; already drained of their contents once, twitching against her chin. A whine of frustration parting Marcus’s lips as the vines around him slid down his arms and tightened around his wrists.

Pulling his hands free from where they gripped at the sides of the woman's head, letting her pull her mouth from around his cock and lean up. Squishing his length between her enormous breasts, fingers sinking into the plush flesh as she squeezed her breasts together.

Just the tip of his cock managing to peek out from between her bountiful bosoms.

Poked out demandingly and in desperate need of attention, attention the woman was more than happy to give. Her tongue worshiping the spongy head of his cock, swirling around it. Pulling and pushing the flesh of his foreskin over the sensitive tip. Marcus’s vine wrapped hands immobilized at his sides, fingers clenching.

His nails digging into the palms of his hands, already so close to cumming that it was almost comical. Though with the talent the woman seemed to harbor, it wasn't a surprise she made a quick shoot out of Marcus. And as tight little cry rolled from off his tongue, it was then Marcus found himself cumming again.

Standing on the tip of his toes, his back arched like a drawn bow.

Cock twitching against the woman's tongue, buried right to the hilt within her mouth.

A surprisingly large load of cum pouring itself down the Deities throat, his balls tightening with every spurt that escaped him. Hips delivering quick and short thrusts, never slipping more than an inch from her throat, before jamming himself back in. 

Marcus left bodily twitching as the woman milked the last mouthful of cum from his balls. Her tongue sliding across her lips when she leaned back, licking his essence from her lips. Eyes bright and haughty, hands sliding down her sticky breasts.

Smearing the large mounds with the nectar that had dribbled down her chin. A tilt to her head as she took in the sight of his cock, softening after only two loads.

A tisk to her tongue and a twitch to her lips.

Marcus whining aloud when she wrapping her fingers around his sensitive cock and drew her thumb across the head.

“No, no, no. Now’s not the time to be resting, sweetie. Where did that youthful vigor of yours go?” She spoke to Marcus like one might a child, slow and patronizing. Coddling the human with tender hands and soft words, the vines slithering their way from around his arms and chest. Instead choosing to simple coil about his hips, dragging Marcus gently down to his knees.

Once again face to face with the woman’s full breasts.

“Drink until you are rejuvenated, for the days is still young.”

She did not need to tell Marcus twice, the man latching himself onto her other breast this time. Drinking deeply the delectable nectar that filled his mouth, his softened cock twitching between his thighs.

Willing, but in need of a helping hand.

Or better yet, a helping flower.

The flower tipped vine rising from between Marcus’s thighs, the closed bud twisting and opening. The petals wrapping around his limp cock little by little, engulfing him in its tight wetness again.

Marcus suddenly jumping with a tiny jolt of surprise as the thin tip of a vine wiggled its way down the crack of his ass and nuzzled up against his puckered hole. Smearing a generous amount of nectar across it the pink skin.

“Hmm… what's this?” The woman teased, her vine prodding at his hole. The thin tip nudging and wriggling, slowly working itself into the unused passage. Marveling at the softness of it, an asshole that had never experienced the thickness of a cock.

Though from the ease at which she managed to wiggly her vine into him, it was obviously a hole that had been played with before. Accustomed to the press of Marcus’s fingers.

Thin fingers that could not compared to the size of her vines. The scrawny tip pressing easily in, hardly preparing him for the thickening length that followed quickly after. Marcus’s hips jerking as the tip of her vine stroked firmly at his prostate, sliding wetly in and out.

Popping fully out, before sliding a small handful of inches in. Jabbing his prostate roughly again, and again, and again. His cock twitching to life, hardening in the wet clutch of the flower’s mouth. Twitching each time the woman prodded at the sensitive gland, his cock a dribbling mess.

“Such a naughty little human… getting hard from a little ass play. Don’t worry though-” She smiled down at him, eyes bright and golden. “I’ll make sure to play with your prostate from now on. Ah, there I go again. Spoiling a human.” 

**_I won’t make the same mistake this time._ **

It was barely a whisper in Marcus’s mind, his glazed over eyes staring up at her. At the beautiful creature he had stumbled across, called to the Temple by an unknown force. A beckon that had seeped into his lungs, sweet and tempting.

Drawing him from the safety of the marble archway, and deep into The Ruins.

Right into the clutches of a creature Marcus had never seen before. The deity of a long since extinct kingdom, a kingdom of wealth and power that had somehow lost the will to live. A frightening thought, that Marcus currently knew all too well.

His mind a blank slate in the woman's presence, barely a sliver of consciousness to exhibit. Groaning and grunting around her nipple, his cock throbbing at the suckling of the flower wrapped around it, and his stomach a coil of knots at the thick vine that jabbed at his prostate.

Stretching his inner walls with each hard thrust, making him squirm and buck.

Lost in the throes of passion.

Forced through one orgasm after another. Hardly even noticing his release now, cumming blindly into the flower curled around his cock. Each moment as pleasure as the next, but as indistinguishable as the last. Marcus losing count of the number of times he had been milked and drained, his mind choosing to focus on simpler things.

Overwhelmed with the sweet taste of nectar he suckled back, filling his belly and clouding his mind. Making every moment a bit more bearable, and a bit less realistic.

Becoming accustomed to the firm grip of her vines around him, milking his cock and digging into his prostate. Even teasing at her nipples, if the mood struck her. Marcus willingly overlooking the dangers of the woman whose body he now worshipped with mouth, hands, and cock.

The date unimportant, and his passion easily forgotten.

Thinking nothing of the plant specimens waiting back at camp for him to document and label, or the smiling family that worriedly awaited his return, expecting him to return with a packful of plant cuttings, and a burning desire to go explore The Ruins deeper.

His horse; that stupid beast, probably having found his way home by now, his lonesome reappearance met with confusion and understandable worry. Thankfully though, just from his appearance alone, it was not hard to guess Marcus was a man of some wealth. And with wealth, came importance and family.

People who would notice if he suddenly went missing.

People who try and find him, if he did happen to vanish. And it wasn't like they didn't know where he had been heading.

“He’s just at The Ruins… why not ask the King to send a search party?”

**_It will be different this time, it has to be._ **

There was a smile on the woman's lips as she stroked at Marcus’s hair, the taste of his cum sticking to the roof of her mouth. A familiar taste of her past, a taste she would never forget. The same one as those who had once roamed within the walls of her Kingdom, foolish enough to believe her a god.

A young and simple folk, easily swayed with a smile and a taste of heaven. Succumbing to the will of her nectar, and forgetting about the hardships of life and the responsibility of man.

Growing slow and lazy, and without purpose as the generations went by.

Letting their animals die, and crops wither.

Supplying the woman with more than enough sustenance to stay alive, spoiling her just as she spoiled them. Lost in a lifetime of willingly given pleasure, without the need to hunt and trap humans to survive, as her kind usually did.

Growing large and powerful, her vines stretching far through the kingdom she had grown with. From a small and simple Alraune, to a class that few; if any, of her original species had ever reached. Powerful enough to control an entire kingdom of people on her own.

A path that had eventually ended in failure, after several hundred years of quiet comfort. Leaving her alone, in The Ruins of her once great empire. The wealth tempting more than enough people into her clutch, the chance of fortune too great for them or originally ignore. But no matter how many times she tried to start again, it never seemed to work out.

With new people to believe her lies, and quench her hunger.

But they would die, just as they always did. A single person not enough to sustain the vast network of vines and plant life she had given life to, all of it requiring her energy to grow and thrive.

The dead forest around The Ruins proof of her weakening grip on power. But this, this was different. This was a chance to regain the followers she had lost, the lambs that had fled her once overflowing flock.

Marcus Bittercress of Floret.

A Kingdom that she knew well of, its first settlers no more than simple farmers. Men and women who had once fought for the privilege of her nectar and pleasure, a small sect of followers that had eventually seen her for what she really was.

A monster that was mascarding as a deity.

The people wisely choosing to flee before they could become like the others, slow and docile like the cattle they had once grazed in the valley. But just because they had escaped, that did not mean they were no longer hers.

They would come now, in search of their missing noble. They would come in number in hopes of quieting the fear her beloved kingdom welled up in them, a fear they could not place. A fear that had been bred into their very bloodlines.

The fear of becoming her food once again

**_She would do better this time._ **


End file.
